


In Light of You

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Famous Harry, M/M, Non-Famous Liam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:20:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2296427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/words_unravel/pseuds/words_unravel">words_unravel</a> for the Lirry Fic Exchange. </p><p>Among her awesome prompts, she asked for Model Harry/personal trainer Liam based on <a href="http://temptmetobelieve.tumblr.com/post/78369274245/au-model-harry-styles-has-a">this</a>. I tweaked the prompt a bit, but I hope you like this. </p><p>I started writing and realized I could have written 50k in this universe. I did not have the time for that so if this seems short and disjointed, I apologize. I ended up wanting to tell a much bigger story than I had time to write and bit off way more than I could chew.</p>
    </blockquote>





	In Light of You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [words_unravel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/words_unravel/gifts).



> Written for [words_unravel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/words_unravel/pseuds/words_unravel) for the Lirry Fic Exchange. 
> 
> Among her awesome prompts, she asked for Model Harry/personal trainer Liam based on [this](http://temptmetobelieve.tumblr.com/post/78369274245/au-model-harry-styles-has-a). I tweaked the prompt a bit, but I hope you like this. 
> 
> I started writing and realized I could have written 50k in this universe. I did not have the time for that so if this seems short and disjointed, I apologize. I ended up wanting to tell a much bigger story than I had time to write and bit off way more than I could chew.

_Rumors have been flying the last few months about the relationship between pop star Harry Styles and his personal trainer, Liam Payne. The increasingly frequent tweets between the two, the fan sightings of them out and about in London and LA and Harry’s continued tight-lipped silence when asked whether or not he’s seeing anyone have sent the internet, particularly Tumblr and Twitter, into a frenzy of speculation._ \- Daily Mail 2 August 2016 

Harry was in the garden. He had a copy of the tabloid spread open in front of him as he read it from his perch balancing upside down on his forearms and head. His legs were crossed at the knee and he was breathing out slowly through his teeth. 

Liam stood in the doorway with his morning brew, the cup between his palms, breathing in the steam as he watched Harry. It wasn’t quite seven but the the air was hot - hot for London - and Liam imagined they’d spend the day in various states of undress. 

The trouble with having a job that forced him out of the house by six am was the inability to have a lie in on days he had nowhere to be. 

“Morning,” Liam called. He could stand here all morning, watching Harry and his ridiculous yoga poses. He was in a loose pair of cotton trousers and nothing else, his hair piled on top of his head in a bun. His stomach muscles clenched as he held himself upside down, balanced carefully. 

He’d tried to teach Liam once - back in the beginning when Liam had been hired to get Harry in shape for his first US tour. They’d taken a break from lifting weights and boxing. Liam still remembered Harry’s grip on his stomach and thighs as he tried to help him do a proper headstand. It had ended with the two of them tangled on the floor of the hotel gym, laughing breathlessly. 

Harry gave Liam that same blinding, crinkly eyed smile that Liam remembered from the first night they met. Even years later, Harry could still look at him like that and make Liam feel like he was the best thing Harry had ever seen. 

“Reading anything interesting?” Liam came out to the veranda and sat in one of the lounge chairs. 

Harry grinned and from this angle it looked maniacal, like a character in a comic. “Fascinating piece about how close we’ve gotten and the date I went on with Molly Mack night before last. We went to Shoreditch House and I took her home.” 

“That sounds nice,” Liam said, watching Harry. “I’ve heard she’s a lovely girl.” 

“That’s what I’ve heard too,” Harry said, like the whole situation wasn’t absurd. “I hope we had a good time.” 

Liam had slowly gotten used to seeing his name on Twitter and in the different tabloids. The night before last he and Harry had been with the lads for Niall’s Sunday night dinner, after which they came back here and fucked in the garden. 

Still, there was a sense of amusement at all of it - all the photos of Harry with different women. It felt like a special secret, knowing the truth while the rest of the world speculated. 

 

* * * 

 

Liam met Harry on his twenty-first birthday, at a ridiculously posh party his friends had put together for him. Liam hadn’t known it was Harry’s birthday. If he had, he’d never have gone. 

Nick had been pestering him about it for weeks. “Don’t be anti-social,” Nick had said just that morning. “Parties are good for the soul. Come and get so drunk you don’t remember your own name. It’s good fun.” 

“I’m not anti-social,” Liam had muttered. He had friends and he went out with them. He just didn’t like the idea of some big party for someone he’d never met, full of strangers. He’d come a long way since school and that mild panic he used to get when he was in a room full of people he didn’t know. But a party with loads of people he didn’t know wasn’t in the top ten of things he wanted to do with his time. 

But it was hard to say no to Nick. Even red-faced and sweaty after an hour of Liam putting him through one of the more difficult circuits, he was adorable and funny and Liam wanted to say yes just to see Grimmy give him that happy, crinkly-eyed smile. 

Improbably, they’d become friends in the four months Liam had been training him. 

Harry Styles had been on the cover of three different magazines last month alone. Liam would have had to live in a cave to not know who he was. He just hadn’t ever imagined he’d be here celebrating his birthday, while Nick, the reason Liam was here, consumed the entire contents of the bar and went about snogging ever woman he came in contact with. 

“You must be Nick’s Liam,” Harry said, sidling up beside Liam near the bar and setting a drink down in front of him. 

“Cheers,” Liam said and took a sip. It was sweet and fruity with a heavy kick that made his stomach swoop like he’d gone on one of those rickety old roller coasters at the shore. “I’m _a_ Liam,” he said, setting the glass down on the bar. “I’m not sure I’m “Nick’s.” 

Harry took the glass and finished it in one long gulp while Liam watched his throat work and the way the lights from the club danced off Harry’s skin, making him look like one of those crazy modern paintings Zayn liked so much and liked to drag Liam all over London to look at. 

“You are,” Harry said. “You’re exactly like Nick described.” 

“Oh,” Liam wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Thank you?” 

“You’re welcome,” Harry beamed. “Come on, Nick’s Liam, come and dance. It’s my birthday.” 

 

* * * 

 

Liam’s hands were covered in sticky rice. He smelled of vinegar and nori and he had overripe avocado underneath his fingernails. His vest clung to his skin, sweat pooling in the small of his back and behind his knees. 

His favorite summer playlist was on low and when he wasn’t cursing and gritting his teeth in frustration he was dancing to the Beach Boys and singing under his breath. 

“Liam,” Harry said, coming to stand in the doorway of the kitchen. He had a way of saying Liam’s name like he liked the way it sounded, like it brought him joy. Liam still got little goose bumps at the back of his neck and the insides of his arms when Harry said his name. “What on earth are you doing?” 

“I’m not sure,” Liam muttered to himself. It was too hot in here, despite the open doors and the pathetic attempt at a breeze that blew in every now and then. He swiped his forearm across his brow and peered down at the directions. 

He looked over his shoulder to find Harry stood still watching him. He was completely naked. Liam still went pink, even after all their time living together, at the sight of Harry’s naked body. He was wet from a shower, skin pink from an hour spent in the sun doing yoga.

Harry came over to him, dripping water as he went, and wrapped his arms around Liam’s middle, plastering his naked, wet skin to Liam’s back. 

Harry tucked his chin against Liam’s shoulder and looked down at the mess Liam had made. “You’re making sushi?” 

Liam had hoped to have it finished, cut into pretty pieces and displayed nicely on a platter at this point. What he had was a collapsed mess of rice and cucumber and smashed avocado. He was an awful failure. 

“I’m trying to,” Liam said a little miserably, a low level headache at the base of his skull making him want to bin the whole thing and drag Harry to bed for a kip. Fucking sushi. This was a terrible idea. 

“But Liam,” Harry said, “you _hate_ sushi,” quite unnecessarily. The third time they went out together, when they gave in to the realization that there was so much more between them than friendship, to quite a posh place in Las Vegas that brought them an enormous tray of sushi and sashimi and Liam had done his best to to choke it all down, trying to hide his grimace and look like he was having the time of his life. In the end Harry had taken pity on him and bought him a twenty dollar burger at the Mirage. They ended up on the balcony of Harry’s penthouse suite, overlooking the strip and the city lights. 

Liam liked the rolls with cucumbers and carrots all right. He wasn’t putting raw fish or squid anywhere near his face, let alone in his mouth, but the vegetable ones weren’t so bad. It wasn’t the point though. “You don’t,” he said. 

There were things Harry liked that Liam still didn’t understand - like pilates and meditation and squid and music with banjos and fiddles and art made out of string. But they meant something to Harry. So here he was on a lazy summer Saturday, sweating and cursing and making sushi for Harry. 

Harry was quiet for a moment and Liam could practically feel him choosing his words, thinking about them before he said quietly, voice pitched lower, “Liam, are you making sushi for me?” He pressed a kiss beneath Liam’s ear. “That’s really sexy.” 

It was kind of difficult to concentrate with Harry’s warm, wet body tucked up behind his but he was doing something nice for Harry and he wanted to finish. 

He got the rice spread out on the little bamboo mat, flattened it out the way the recipe instructed and rolled it as tightly as he could, only a little distracted by Harry’s humming in his ear and the way he rubbed Liam’s belly like he was a cat and Harry was trying to get him to purr. 

“Oy, I’m concentrating.” He pulled the mat back and made a pleased, triumphant little sound as the roll stayed put like it was supposed to. 

 

* * *

 

A week after Harry’s birthday, Liam’s phone rang from a blocked number as he was closing up the studio and getting ready to head home for karaoke night with the lads. 

“Hello?” He said into the phone, juggling his rucksack and his gym shoes, locking the door behind him. 

“Liam!” Liam had only met him the once but he’d have recognized that slow, deep voice anywhere. 

“Harry? What - um. How do you have my number?” 

“I got it off Grimmy. What are you doing tonight? Have you got plans? I thought I might buy you dinner as thanks for coming to my party.” 

Liam felt his mouth fall open, eyes wide and eyebrows up in a comical impression of a fish. His brain had gone completely blank and he couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Liam? You there?” 

“I’d love to,” Liam blurted, and then “oh shit, sorry, damn. I can’t.” 

He closed his eyes, face hot. Good. He’d officially made an arse of himself in front of Harry bleeding Styles. 

Liam tried to steady his voice. “I do want to, I’ve just got this thing, with the lads.” Liam couldn’t believe he was saying no to Harry. But karaoke night was sacred. No one cancelled karaoke night. 

“Okay,” Harry said. “What about tomorrow?” 

Liam had never been the kind of guy to put himself out there but living in London, being friends with Louis and Niall and Zayn, he’d learned to be a bit brave. “Would you like to come?” he said before he could think better of it. “It’s just karaoke, probably wouldn’t be all that fun, it’s okay if you don’t-”

“Liam,” Harry said, cutting Liam off, “that sounds like fun. I’d love to.” 

Which was how Liam and his friends ended up hanging out with Harry Styles for an evening, getting drunk and singing pop songs from before they were born. 

It was going on midnight and Liam was flushed and giggly, surrounded by his three favorite people, and Harry, who was quickly becoming a new favorite. He had a way of looking at him when he talked, serious and engaged, like he was cataloguing every word Liam said and tucking it away to remember later. Liam found himself getting a little flushed at the attention, a little squirmy every time Harry leaned in close to tell him something. 

The pub was closing for the night and they still hadn’t sung anything together. Harry tugged on Liam’s arm. “Come sing with me.” Harry had chosen We Belong, a song Liam happened to secretly love and had sung many times at the top of his lungs in his bedroom, belting into a hairbrush and emoting in front of the mirror. 

“Good choice!” Niall shouted from across the table. “Liam’s so good at that one.” 

Liam loved karaoke but the thought singing with Harry was terrifying. Harry stood up on that little stage in Liam’s local pub and it wasn’t world famous, platinum selling Harry Styles, but twenty-one year old Harry, Liam’s mate. 

The place erupted in cheers and Harry stood next to him grinning, his eyes bright and his face pink. For a terrifying second Liam thought Harry might kiss him. But the moment was gone before it could begin and Liam was left with a sagging weight of disappointment.

Liam hadn’t expected to hear anything from Harry after that. Not because they hadn’t had an amazing time - Harry fit right in with the lads. He was smart and funny and charming. But because Harry was a pop star and Liam worked in a gym training housewives and businessmen. 

That was the beginning of Harry proving Liam wrong.

 

* * *

 

“Harry, babe, shouldn’t you put some clothes on?” Liam said as Harry carried the salad Liam had made out back. In the end, Liam had four lopsided rolls of sushi. It hadn’t been the success he’d been hoping for when he stood in Tesco thinking about surprising Harry with homemade sushi. 

Harry was still completely naked, his hair down around his shoulders. Liam bit his lip. Harry’s back was broader than when they’d first started training together, the softness at his hips and belly gone now. He still had no arse but what he did have was defined tapering into those strong thighs and long legs. 

Harry gave Liam his wide-eyed innocent look that still let him get away with just about anything. “What for?” 

“Harry, please, at least put on some shorts.” Liam had a terrifying vision of waking up to photos all over the tabloids of Harry like this, completely naked. 

“No one’s going to _see_ ,” Harry insisted but he compromised and disappeared into the bedroom, re-emerging in a pair of pants. Liam thought about telling Harry those were _his_ but he caught Harry’s self-satisfied little smirk and closed his mouth. 

They sat at the round wooden table shaded by an oversized umbrella, Harry’s feet in Liam’s lap for the simple reason he knew he could. 

Liam used his fingers to push a piece of sushi into his mouth, waiting for a reaction as Harry did the same with a pair of chopsticks. 

It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t necessarily _good_. But it wasn’t bad. 

“This is good,” Harry said, pushing another piece into his mouth. “I’m so proud of you, Liam.” Harry grinned. 

Liam smiled back. He still didn’t _like_ sushi, but anything that made Harry look at him like that couldn’t be bad. 

 

* * * 

 

“I want to ask you something,” Harry said, resting his elbows on the table and leaning in, looking so adorably earnest Liam couldn’t imagine saying no to him. 

Harry had called him up and invited him out to brunch a couple of weeks after karaoke. They’d been texting back and forth - Harry sent him the weirdest, most random texts and pictures of things he thought were interesting. Liam didn’t get most of it but he found himself checking his phone almost obsessively throughout the day just because Harry made him smile.

Liam nodded for Harry to go ahead, his mouth full of omelet. 

“I need a trainer,” Harry said. They were sat in a quiet corner of Harry’s favorite restaurant. For the most part, they were being ignored, though a teenager had come by their table, nervously asking Harry for a picture. Liam had watched Harry graciously get up, put his arm around her as they took a photo and then pull her into a hug. 

“We’re going to the states,” Harry was saying, “and I need someone to come with me and train me while I’m on the road.” 

Liam stopped chewing. If he hadn’t had food in his mouth his jaw would have been on the table. “Um? Okay?” He was waiting for the punchline, waiting for the hidden cameras to come out, for Harry to jump up and yell “ah ha, I got you!” 

“Grimmy can’t stop talking about you,” Harry said, rushing on.“I love Grimmy more than just about anyone, but he’s a lazy sod. And he _likes_ working out now, thanks to you. You’re _good_ Liam. I want you to come out on the road with me and be my trainer.” 

A thousand things rushed through Liam’s brain at once and he was completely incapable of speaking. He thought about leaving the lads behind for months at a time. He thought about having enough money to send some home to his mum and dad, enough to save to have his own gym someday. He thought about going to the States for the first time. 

“Well?” Harry said, frowning. “Say something, Liam.” 

Liam opened his mouth, found nothing would come out, closed it again and finally said, “thank you.” 

Harry smiled, his eyes going squinty. “So polite, Liam. I like that in a boy.” 

Liam’s face flushed pink. In the short few weeks they’d known each other, Liam had already learned Harry liked to flirt. 

Harry sat back in his seat. “So what do you think?” 

Working for Harry was an amazing opportunity. But he had a life in London with the lads that he really loved. In the end though, there wasn’t even a decision to be made. 

“I have to think about it, if that’s alright,” Liam said, fumbling with his fork. It was a lie - there was nothing to think about. He _wanted_ this job. 

“Okay, that’s reasonable,” Harry said and went back to his oatmeal. “Just let me know soon, yeah?” 

Afterwards, Harry tried but Liam wouldn’t let Harry pay for him. He _couldn’t_. He wasn’t going to be another in a long line of people in Harry’s life who took from him. 

He hadn’t planned on paying fifteen pounds for lunch, but if he took the tube home instead of a taxi, he’d be alright. And Niall still owed him this month’s rent. And then soon he wouldn’t have to worry so much. He tried telling himself that was the reason for taking the job and not because of the way Harry looked at him. 

 

* * * 

 

After Liam tidied up the kitchen and rid the cooktop of sticky bits of rice and shredded carrot while Harry took a call from his manager in the back of the house. He had a new album getting ready to be released and while they were technically having a day off, there were decisions to make. 

He changed into his running clothes, left a note for Harry and headed out for a long run. 

Before he and Harry moved in together, he used to run by this street on his longer runs, six and a half miles from his flat. It was such a far cry from the flat he used to share with Louis, Niall and Zayn, the four of them packed into a shoebox of a place, living on top of each other, struggling to make the rent from month to month. 

They’d been dating and working together for going on fourteen months when Harry came up behind Liam while he was cooking pasta and mumbled in his ear, “you should stay here. Move in.” 

“I’m always here, babe,” Liam had said, turning around and pulling Harry towards him. 

“Stay here forever,” Harry whispered. 

Three months later they moved in to this house with its lovely garden and brightly lit rooms, a place for the two of them, a secret from prying eyes and wagging tongues. 

Now they came to his, once a week when their schedules allowed, brought their girlfriends and ate with them in the garden if it was nice or sat around the living room on Harry’s favorite cushions, having a laugh and getting drunk on cheap wine. 

 

* * * 

 

“Are you Harry’s boyfriend?” 

The girl couldn’t have been more than seven. She had a t-shirt on with Harry’s face and a scarf in her hair like Harry’s. 

Liam had stood off to the side as Harry stopped to take pictures and sign autographs. They’d been on tour less than a week, less than three months of Liam working for Harry, and yet somehow the world seemed to know who he was. 

“No, I’m not, love,” Liam told the young girl. “We’re friends. Besides, I think he’s waiting for you to be his girlfriend.” 

She giggled and went pink cheeked.

Harry had told him but Liam hadn’t believed him. Hadn’t believed that working for Harry, spending time with him because they’d become friends, would mean everyone would know his name and his face, that he’d lived in London for three years working as a personal trainer. Somehow Harry’s fans knew all the details of Liam’s life. He hadn’t been prepared for any of it. 

“I like you,” the girl said to him. “Will you take a picture with me?”

“You want a photo of me? Are you sure?”

The girl just smiled up at him and held out her mother’s phone. Liam took it from her and got down on his haunches, holding the phone out to snap a photo of the two of them with their heads together.

“Bye, Liam! Thanks!” She called over her shoulder while Liam stood and watched her go, wondering when his life had turned into this. 

 

* * * 

 

Liam let himself into the house, dripping sweat everywhere, stopping in the entryway to catch his breath and stretch his legs. 

“Honey you’re home!” Harry said, popping out from the kitchen. He was still mostly naked, still in Liam’s pants. He had flour in his hair and smudged across his cheek and he looked as sexy as Liam had ever seen him. 

“What are you up to?” Liam asked carefully, sure the answer involved destruction of the kitchen and a mess he’d be stuck cleaning later. 

“I’m baking,” Harry said with a wide smile like he wanted to laugh at himself. Harry was so much Liam’s favorite it made it hard to breathe sometimes, caught completely off balance by how _Harry_ he was, full of sunshine and light and laughter and joy. 

“Did you have a good run?” Harry asked, distractedly, and Liam watched him give a once over, eyeing Liam’s sweat-soaked vest and the way his jogging bottoms clung to his thighs and arse from the heat. 

“Harry, babe, don’t,” Liam said as Harry stepped right up into his space, hands cupping his hips. Liam wrinkled his nose and tried to pull away - he felt like rubbish and imagined he felt much worse. 

But Harry had always been an odd duck. He gave Liam a wide eyed little smile and held on tighter, rubbing his face against Liam’s sweaty throat. 

“Mmm,” Harry rumbled, something that sounded a lot like laughter in his voice. In the beginning, harry had taken a lot of pride in being able to make Liam blush and squirm. 

“You’re disgusting,” Liam told him, trying to hide his smile. He could smell himself. But Harry just rubbed himself against Liam, putting on a show. 

“You _smell_ disgusting,” Harry said gleefully, sliding his hands down to palm Liam’s arse. “Let’s go have a shower.” 

 

* * * 

 

Liam hadn’t expected a three month job with Harry to turn into six months, then ten months. He kept waiting for Harry to sack him - there were other trainers who had more experience, who were more skilled. But Harry kept Liam on, first for the tour in the States, then for two months in Australia and a small tour of Japan. 

And they kept getting closer. 

The first night Liam slept in Harry’s bed, they’d fallen asleep watching a strange artsy film Harry wanted to show him. Liam had checked out after the first ten minutes, watching Harry watch the screen, the way the light flickered against his skin, the expression on his face, so intent and focused. 

By then they were in that in between space - so much more than friends but not quite there. Liam kept waiting for it to happen - he couldn’t be the one to move first, not if he’d read everything between them wrong and Harry just thought of him as a mate. 

Nothing happened. Liam fell asleep with his head on Harry’s pillow and when he woke up hours later, his arm flattened beneath Harry, he couldn’t help thinking that nothing had ever felt this right. 

 

* * * 

 

Liam’s phone went off with a Google alert as he was drying himself off. 

He climbed into the laughably large bed and thumbed through the article. It was just a series of photos of the two of them coming out of Debenham’s on Oxford Street where they’d gone for an afternoon of shopping early last week. They hadn’t been walking particularly close together, but Liam remembered that day, the playfulness between them, darting in and out of corners, laughing at the thrill of sneaking around like a couple of teenagers. 

Harry had told him to ignore the things people said on the internet. _It’s all rubbish and most of it’s false_ he’d said the first time a photo of the two of them appeared on Twitter, the two of them having lunch the day Harry asked Liam to be his trainer.

It was a little like walking by a car crash - he knew he shouldn’t look but he couldn’t quite help himself. He got a perverse little thrill at the secret he was keeping, watching people speculate about the different woman Harry was supposedly out with every week when really, he was right here, with Liam. 

The door to the bathroom swung open and the room was filled with steam and the scent of Harry’s favorite oatmeal soap. 

“What are you reading?” Harry stepped out of the bathroom, completely naked, hair wet and dripping water down his skin. 

“Nothing important,” Liam said, setting his phone down and leaning back into the pillows. Nothing seemed quite as important as watching Harry, the new definition in his stomach and chest making him leaner but still with that same thickness in his hips that Liam had always been fascinated with. 

Harry saw him looking and smiled, a self-satisfied, cocky little smirk, the one that said Harry knew how gorgeous he was and was more than happy to be appreciated. 

Liam tracked Harry’s movement across the room, the carpet littered with a mix of their things, his trainers and joggers scattered with Harry’s thousand dollar Chelsea boots and Burberry headscarves. He watched the way the muscles in his thighs flexed, the narrow width of his waist, the black of his tattoos against the golden tone of his skin, bronze from a summer of travel. Liam watched Harry’s cock fill up, from Liam’s eyes on him, from the pleasure of being watched. 

_How do you do that_? Liam had asked once, having witnessed Harry go from soft to rigid, cock pink and leaking against his belly with nothing more than Liam’s eyes on him as lay there like some sun-soaked prince in a pile of pillows. 

Harry had given him that little secretive smile, arched his back, arms overhead, and said _I just like the way you look at me_. 

Liam flushed as Harry cupped his balls, bringing his cock against his belly, framed by the laurel tattoos Liam had watched Harry get inked into his skin at two in the morning at a little tattoo parlor in New York that had stayed open because for them. 

“Like what you see?” Harry did a dramatic little hair flip, silly and completely at odds with how fucking sexy he was, looking at Liam like that, like he wanted to lay him down and take him apart. 

“I’ve seen worse,” Liam allowed. He’d seen Harry naked in the context of the two of them for going on a year now and he never failed to go cotton-mouthed and clumsy when Harry’s full attention was focused on him. 

Harry set a knee at the foot of the bed, still cupping himself, and made an exaggerated little pout, bottom lip pink and wet like he’d been chewing on it. 

“You’re too much for me,” Liam said breathlessly, slipping down the pillows so he could lie on his back. 

“Am I?” Harry looked thoughtful. “I don’t know Liam, you seem to do alright.” 

And just like that Harry could take something playful and turn it on its ear until Liam was hard and restless and ready to beg for Harry to fuck him. 

Harry climbed up the bed and settled himself in Liam’s lap. 

His breath was fresh, the scent of his expensive mint toothpaste mixed in with his favorite shampoo that reminded Liam of the time they’d spent in Australia, eucalyptus and citrus and sunshine. 

Harry braced his weight on his forearms and bent over Liam, hair dripping water onto the pillows but Liam wasn’t paying attention to anything but the way Harry felt, hands cupping his bum to pull him closer. 

He lifted his head up off the pillow to meet Harry halfway. 

Sweet, chaste kisses turned into breathless snogging, both of them hard. Harry still made Liam crazy with how much he wanted, like he could never get enough. 

Liam broke apart to roll to his stomach. “Do it like this, yeah?” he said, wrapping his arms around a pillow and tucking it beneath his chest, weight supported on his folded arms so he could look back over his shoulder at Harry. 

The first conversation they’d had about it had been a few months in when it had begun to be clear they were well on their way towards serious. They were both stupid drunk, frantic with the need to get off with each other. It had been Harry’s first Grammy win and the one he’d wanted more than anything - Song of the Year. They were high on his success, high on each other. 

Harry was Liam’s first. During his first few months in London - with the thrill of a big city and the anonymity of it all in the midst of millions of people - he went out quite a lot, pulling fit lads in club loos and car parks, exchanging rushed handjobs and sloppy blowies. But Harry was the first of everything else - and the first that meant anything at all. 

Liam pressed his eyes shut and tried not to come too soon as Harry bent over him, breath hot against his cheek, hands everywhere, touching Liam, reminding him he was right there, fucking him slow and deep, no rush, just a lazy afternoon fuck. 

“Harry,” Liam breathed out and came all over himself, spilling over his hand and the sheets. 

Harry tucked his head in the crook of Liam’s shoulder and sped up, rhythm going frantic and uncoordinated. 

They hadn’t used condoms together in close to eight months and Harry was disgusting and liked to mark Liam up. He pulled out at the last second and came all over Liam’s lower back and bum, groaning. 

Liam pressed his face into the pillows. “You’re such a show off,” he muttered, suddenly exhausted. He wanted a kip before they headed over to Zayn and Louis’s for drinks and the second part of their Marvel marathon. Harry had as much interest in Iron Man and Thor as Liam had in foreign films - usually movie marathon night meant Harry and Niall hiding out in the kitchen, smoking up and playing guitar together. 

Harry rolled off Liam, still breathing hard, and sprawled out on his back, arms stretched overhead. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, “we should go on holiday.” 

Liam propped himself up on an elbow. He wondered if there would ever come a time when he wasn’t completely overwhelmed by Harry. “Yeah?” Liam said absently, watching the way Harry’s belly fluttered as he breathed, the sweat and come shiny on his skin. “Are going to finally show me where you grew up? Holmes Chapel should be nice this time of year.” He reached out and ran his fingers down the plane of Harry’s stomach, making a mess and going flushed as Harry arched up into his touch. 

They’d gone at Christmas to Harry’s dad’s cottage and Anne and Robin came to the city and stayed with them every few months but Liam hadn’t been to the place Harry had grown up. It was kind of a difficult thing to plan, a quiet trip to Harry’s home, when they were supposed to be mates and nothing else and the world wanted every piece of Harry they could get. 

Harry settled down into the sheets and pushed his hair out of his eyes, peering up at Liam with that same crinkly-eyed, amused look Liam remembered from the very first time they met. “No, Liam,” Harry drawled, slow like syrup and that tone of voice that implied fond exasperation. “A proper holiday. Someplace warm and sunny.” He rolled to his side, fitting his legs between Liam,s and curled an around his waist, tugging him close. “We can drink fancy cocktails that come in pineapples and spend all day sleeping on the beach.” He pressed his mouth to Liam’s throat. “Just you and me. What do you think?” 

It was not the first time Harry had mentioned the two of them going away someplace. At Christmas he’d suggested going to Barbados and before that had been Turks and Caicos for Liam’s birthday. But something always came up. 

“Come on holiday with me, Liam,” Harry said again, in a quiet tone that sounded earnest and sweet. 

“Where we would go?” Liam asked. It was hypothetical. They couldn’t go on holiday together - the minute they stepped off a plane just the two of them, the world would know they weren’t just friends, that Liam wasn’t just Harry’s personal trainer. But it was a nice _what if_. 

“Anywhere you want,” Harry said, eyes going bright and perking up, when moments ago he’d been half asleep. “Where would you like to go?”

“I’ve never been to Greece.” Liam had seen a poster of one of the Greek islands back at college, it had hung inside the library, enticing young students to dream. Back then it had seemed he was as likely to get to Greece as he was to the moon.

“I haven’t either. We should go to Greece.” Harry had that hopeful spark in his eyes, the one that made Liam want to say yes to anything he wanted.

Liam rolled to his side to face Harry fully, tucking his ankle between Harry’s. He reached for Harry’s hand and fit their fingers together.

“Babe,” he said quietly, “we can’t go on holiday.” He squeezed Harry’s hand.

Harry’s eyebrows pinched together and his mouth took on that stubborn line that meant he was gearing up for an argument. It didn’t happen often.

They’d had this conversation before. They could barely go shopping together without the world speculating. Harry wasn’t ready to be open about their relationship. Going on holiday was a disaster waiting to happen. “You know we can’t. Not without the whole world knowing about it.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, something bright in his eyes, something like hope.

“Harry. What are you saying?”

Harry pulled Liam closer, wrapped his arms around his back and buried his face in the curve of Liam’s shoulder, breathing in. “I”m ready,” he said and it was muffled and Liam wasn’t quite sure he’d heard right.

“Say it again,” Liam said quietly, his heart hammering in his throat, hope fluttering in his stomach. He was so tired of hiding. “If you mean it, say it out loud.”

He’d known what he was giving up when he got involved with Harry. They couldn’t go for a drink down at the local pub, they couldn’t go out for a night of dancing, they couldn’t hold hands and get off in the cinema. It had all been worth it - Harry and his goofiness, his huge heart, his intelligence, all of it was the best thing that had happened to Liam. But he hadn’t stopped hoping it could be different. 

Harry pulled back and looked Liam in the eye. “I’m ready.”

They had talked about it. In the two years there had been lots of talk. Conversations that ended with both of them tense and upset, little “what if” scenarios they came up with when they were cuddled up watching telly. Two years’ worth of talking about it and maybe they were finally done talking. Maybe he could let himself believe this was really going to happen.

“You know how much I want this,” Liam whispered, looking down to where his fingers were locked with Harry’s. He didn’t care about the world knowing, about the publicity and the rumors and the paparazzi. But the hiding was wearing him down. Not being able to take him home for Christmas to see his family, always wondering if they’d been careful enough. 

“Liam,” Harry said, scooting closer. “I’m sorry you’ve had to wait for me.”

Liam swallowed. “You know,” he said, his voice a little wobbly, his throat tight, “I’d wait forever if you wanted me to.”

He expected Harry to make a joke, tease him for being so earnest and a little over-the-top, but he didn’t. He touched Liam’s jaw, cupped his cheek and said “yeah, I know you would. I love you. I don’t want you to wait anymore for me.”

“Will you buy me a hat?” Liam said to cover the way his voice shook. “I want a big one.” 

The smile Harry gave him hit Liam right down low in his stomach. 

“I’ll buy you _two_ hats,” Harry promised. 

 

* * * 

 

 _“Harry Styles and longtime personal trainer and friend were spotted today in Rio de Janeiro on holiday. The duo were seen by the hotel pool and later sharing drinks and dancing at a club. As Twitter and Tumbler erupted in mass hysteria, Styles quietly Instagrammed a photo of what looked to be him and Payne holding hands and a caption that said simply, “happy. x.”_ \- E Online October 3rd, 2016


End file.
